


Moving forward

by A_Quiet_Place



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Civil War, I AM SORRY, Male Friendship, picking up the pieces, so much cheese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Quiet_Place/pseuds/A_Quiet_Place
Summary: Bucky Barnes tries to fit in with his life with the renegade avengers, Steve does his best to be a super friend. Based after Civil War.





	1. Where do we start?

It was over, none of it was his fault. Steve reminded him on a daily basis, what else could Bucky do but helplessly agree? Knowing that wouldn't erase the memories of the nightmarish years of his life, hearing those words didn't help him sleep, but Steve didn't need to know any of that. All Captain America needed to know that he had made the right choice, that he hadn't abandoned his friends for an irredeemable man.  
  
So Bucky was trying to be redeemable.  
  
Just before Zemo had decided to force him out of hiding he had been in a strange way content. Sure, every day felt like it was teetering on the edge of knife, he'd had to keep himself under the radar, pulling himself back from automatic responses, but he wasn't killing anyone, and for Bucky that was a definite plus.

He had found ways to cope with his guilt, refusing to bend to depression. He kept himself very busy learning about the modern world and all it's new gadgets and social media. He even made steps towards being something of a human being, even if it was just a turn of phrase here and there to a shop keeper or waitress. But after the whole fiasco where Iron man had justifiably tried to rip him limb from limb for the murder of his parents, Bucky had felt a sense of displacement.   
  
The things he had done, even if beyond his control, would follow him around like a shadow for the rest of his days. Just coping wasn't going to be enough to get through, but he had planned without hesitation to survive, it was what he had been trained for after all.  
  
With Steve's adamant defiance that Bucky was anything but his dear old friend, verses his almost programmed responses to fight, he'd had something of an awakening. He knew the neither of the men he had been, James Buchanan Barnes or the Winter soldier, could exist any longer. He would have to be something or someone else, there was no going back or forward without that compromise. The trick was learning how.  
  
With Steve there with him, it was easier to pretend. He had tried desperately to remember their youth, the dancing girls, the fights, the war, but all that came to mind was scrambled yet detailed accounts of his assassinations. In those at least he had no doubts, of what Steve tried to remind him of he couldn't quite believe, but he tried, for his friend.

In the months that followed he had been given something of a pass from Steve and the others, which was both relieving and humbling. He wasn't sure how to thank them, the words he had would never be enough, so he helped. He found the weakness of their shattered little group and he filled it with his strength wherever and when ever he could.   
  
Black Widow, or Natasha as she insisted from him now, had found them a base of operations. Somewhere they could continue their work without being harassed by the government. It moved, they moved, a lot. They had lost a lot of their tech, without Tony's technology and know how, things were going to be tight, mostly on repairs and transport.   
  
Wakanda offered as much as they were able without rousing suspicions, managing to replace Bucky's dismantled and mangled left arm, but with no secret identity to hide behind, the King could not be physically seen with the renegades. 

Despite this Steve remained ever steadfast and resolved to carry on saving lives, to be strong, and unwavering. Which was easy for a man who didn't need machines to operate, although his uniform certainly needed replacing more times than not. They relied on Natasha's connections, and hope that what remained of S.H.I.E.L.D would be at their disposal.  
  
They trained, they planned, they rested but mostly they hid. It was becoming a routine, one Bucky was already overly familiar with. He didn't mind, not really, what took getting used to was having people to do it all with, that and being allowed to stay awake once a job was done, actually remembering it all and calling those memories as his own.  
  
He had a feeling of growing familiarity and fondness when they were all together, it was something he knew had come before Hydra, even if he couldn't pin-point the memory, the feeling was familiar. It felt good, really, really good.

Despite all his loss, he did have the single moment it had all begun to fall into place for him. Steve and Natasha had their turn cooking, both laughing at some mess they had made, Sam, Wanda and Scott had sat down to play a board game that was unfamiliar to Bucky. It was a rare night off for them all, the tensions of the whole year seemed to melt away in an instant, and Bucky had stood awkwardly, watching them, imprinting the scene to his memory. One of the few good moments he could recall without any effort.  
  
Since then he had tried so hard to make more memories like that, he had been caught many times, just staring fixedly as his team mates argued or joked or gave dramatic speeches, responding with a quiet quirk of his lips that was not yet a smile. But it could be.  
  
One evening, Steve cornered him after training, sweat beading on his brow, bruises around his face healing even as he spoke. Bucky had a towel in hand, wiping the blood from his metal knuckles with a stalled apology on his lips.

“You've been quiet, Buck.” His tone was careful, not wanting to have the soldier clam up on him.  
  
“Am I not always quiet?” Bucky answered with sincere confusion.  
  
“More than usual.” Steve's eyes creased with concern.  
  
“It's been difficult, you know.” Bucky paused, searching for the right words.  
  
“Yeah,” Steve nodded a little and rested his hand on Bucky's biological shoulder. “About what you said when we were looking for Zeno, wondering if you were worth all the fighting. You know I still think the answer is one hundred percent yes.”  
  
“That's not it.” Bucky shook his head, resting the towel over his shoulder. “Cap- Steve,” he licked his lips, trying to find the words. “I don't regret pulling you from your world and into mine. I don't regret the Avengers being torn apart. I know I should, I should feel bad about it, but I don't. It gave me this-” He paused, “this life.” He took in a deep breath and looked up at the Captain, his shoulders squaring up a little in self assurance.   
  
Steve stared for a moment then smiled. “Neither do I.”  
  
Bucky felt something of relief pass through his chest, but he couldn't stop there. “You want me to remember before the war, I have tried, but I don't care about any of that either. Whoever that man was, it isn't me, at least not any more.”  
  
“Don't say that, Buck.” Steve frowned at him, concern and pain growing in his eyes. “I know who you are, and who you will always be.”  
  
“No, Captain- Steve, that is who you remember, but that is not me. I need you to understand whatever life we had is done, it's gone with the past.” Bucky shook his head, dark hair falling about his eyes.  
  
“So you are just giving up on those memories?” Steve was about to start an impassioned speech, his blue eyes filling with that sincere need to be heard but Bucky stopped him, raising his metal hand.  
  
“I am not this either, I am not the winter soldier, I'm something else. I need to be something else. I don't know how to make you understand.”  
  
Steve stared at him for a moment, his jaw clenched slightly before he replied. “When Zeno questioned you he called you James. Do you remember?” Bucky nodded mutely. “You told him your name was Bucky. I called you that name. Before then, you had just been the Winter soldier, I called you Bucky and you kept it. Do you know why?”  
  
Bucky paused, his brows knitting as he revisited the memory. “You gave me a name, and I remembered it.”  
  
“It stuck to you even when they tried to take it all away.” Steve leaned in to be eye level with his friend. “Because it is yours, you understand? All those forgotten memories will come back, because they are yours, they are and will always be part of who you are.”

“Things have changed, Steve, I can't just bury the assassinations, just like I can't live my life on the hope that I will remember a time before them.” Bucky's tone was quiet but clear.  
  
“No, I know.” The captain closed his eyes a moment. “I hope you understand, what I remember of you, that is my Bucky. When I see you, I see him, I see the man who stood by me when no one else would, who had my back.” He opened his eyes to look determinedly at his companion. “When we fight together you do the same thing, you stand by me you fight for and with me. How do you expect me to believe that deep down, you aren't the man I remember?”  
  
Bucky stared at him, his lips parting in surprise, it was true most of his battles with Hydra were fought alone, he had rarely been given the opportunity to work as a team, and yet with Steve it just came so naturally, like instinct.   
  
“Whatever you decide, I will stand by you.” Steve continued, his hand squeezing reassuringly against Bucky's shoulder. “But I refuse to believe you are not the man I have always known you to be.”  
  
Bucky had no real argument, but the tightness that had been growing in his chest was suddenly gone. That was the first moment he felt like he belonged, filled with the undeniable knowledge that no matter what the future brought their way, Steve would always be there.

 

 


	2. The fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm just layering cheese, now.

Somewhere behind the machine there is a personality.  
  
Steve watched his old friend, his lost friend, stumble into the new world. Bucky was like a foal staggering around on new legs, not yet sure how to run without tripping but still determined to try. What got Steve was just how gentle Bucky was with everything, like he was afraid moving too fast would shatter the peace or awaken some sleeping violence.  
  
He reached for things with exaggerated care, holding them for a few seconds too long, inspecting each element as if expecting it to trigger some horrid memory, or, as Steve hoped, he was simply seeing it all with new eyes. It was disquieting to watch, but that was all Steve could do.

Bucky's voice was always measured, as if the weight of each word could do him harm if not used in the right way; not carefully thought out before hand. But there had been change in him, a growing confidence, as if Bucky had found a way to ground himself in the world he hadn't been allowed to be part of for so long.  
  
Those guilt laden stares into blank spaces, when his mind was traveling dark paths became easier to disrupt. It broke Steve's heart when Bucky was like that, he made a point in those moments to stand beside him and make some quip, some terribly transparent comment about the weather, or even just to call his name, to bring him back to the present. With deliberate practice, bringing Bucky back took less and less effort.  
  
The others helped, they encourage comments, jokes, scathing rhetoric and Bucky had begun to play the game in return, he offered almost imperceptible sniping remarks or small smirks. They had all caught on fairly quickly, Natasha especially enjoyed them, she seemed to pick up on them much faster than everyone else, her eyes taking in much more about the soldiers subtle facial movements. Her lips often quirked into small smiles, and merriment danced in her eyes as she listened to Bucky talk.

They sparred in the mornings, and while the others were willing to help, Steve trained with him the most. Bucky didn't need to pull his punches against a super soldier, although even with that element on his side the Captain had his fair share of bruises; being hit with a metal arm didn't exactly tickle.

Still, Steve didn't mind, he even relished the challenge. The once Winter Solider never held back, not even for a sparring match. Bucky's new metal arm was lighter, faster, but despite that he still hits like a truck, now it's just twice as much work to avoid. It even had Steve working up a sweat as he blocked the insane barrage of punches, he found himself struggling to get the upper hand, Bucky just wouldn't let up. The Captain rolled back on his heels to avoid a strike that would have broken the jaw of any regular man, but he seemed unable to press any advantage to swap from defense to attack. Bucky barely gave him any breathing room, determined to push all of Steve's buttons at once. The captain had been convinced this was no longer just sparring to the soldier, this was a battle of domination, Steve had to stop it before it got out of hand.  
  
“Bucky!” He ducked, deflected with his forearm and shifted away again. “Stop!” There was already a welt forming on the flesh of his arm.  
  
“The great Captain America wants to stop?” Bucky replied in such an off-hand manner that Steve stopped and stared, unsure how to take the comment at all. He had little time to process it as a metal fist careened towards his face.  
  
Steve dove to the side and recovered a few precious steps of ground. A frown knitted his brow while he remained uncertain whether to continue or to be mortally insulted. Then he saw it, the unmistakable quirk of lips, the glint in his friends eyes. Bucky was _teasing_ him. He felt a rush of excitement, it was almost like his old friend was peeking through the growing cracks in the Winter Soldiers armor.   
  
Steve felt his face split into a grin.  
  
The other soldier's eyes creased slightly with acknowledgement and challenge, and just like that, Captain America felt the enthusiasm to not only carry on but also to win. He would not back down, not when it could mean more secret smiles, more taunts and games from the damaged soldier who thought himself not a man at all.

He would have to take a few hits to get past Bucky's onslaught, but it would be so very worth it to see the surprise, or the glee liven up his old friends face. Steve took his chance when Bucky's non-metal fist slammed heavily into the right side of his rib cage. The air rushed from his lungs, forcing a strangled sounding wheeze out of him, but Steve still managed to take the chance, his own fist circled outside the soldiers stance to knock Bucky square on the cheek.  
  
Bucky reeled back and fell immediately into defense, stepping out of Steve's reach to touch the battered flesh of his face, tentatively with his fingers. He was going to have a shiner tomorrow, but his face remained a mask, one Steve was determined to remove.  
  
“Captain America never gives up.” Steve grinned at him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. There was a split second of silence but then Bucky _smiled._ It had been like watching the sun come out from behind rain clouds, Steve could almost hear the angel choir singing in the background. 

“You can do better.” Bucky taunted, his smile turned determined and it's like he's alive again, even for the briefest moment. This was the Bucky Steve knew. He had little time to celebrate as the soldier was already driving forward for another assault. There was no rage between them, it became a game of who can best who. What would the victor do, what words, what taunts, what human interaction could pass between them.   
  
They end in stale-mate, each gripped the other in a ridiculous hold that left neither of them any hope of further movement without one or both of them relenting. They were both on the floor, battered, bruised and a little bloody, panting and exhausted but _laughing._

Steve honestly couldn't recall a time where he had felt so relaxed, not since the serum. Seeing Bucky, _his Bucky_ surface from the confines of the Winter soldier was like a breath of fresh air.  
  
“Punk.” Steve chuckled. It was the trigger for their simultaneous relinquishing of each others limbs. They lay there on the mats, side by side, while they caught their breath. Neither felt the particular urge to stand and break up the moment. Reality could wait a little longer.

“Thank you, Steve.” Bucky's voice was gentle, sincere.  
  
“Bucky.” Steve turned his head to regard the other man, dark hair still slicked with sweat stuck to his friends forehead in unruly strands. His comrade was flushed with exertion, his eyes shone with pleasure.

Words faltered against Steve's his lips, what could he say? Nothing seemed quite adequate, instead he poured what words he couldn't find into a smile. It was reflected back at him, perhaps not as broadly, but the heartfelt sentiment was still there.   
  
It's enough for Steve.

When they finally get off the floor, it's as if they leave something of the weight of the world behind. Bucky moved with straighter shoulders, his smile replaced with a quiet resolution. For the first time in a long time, it seemed like things were going to be okay.

Nothing could shake the smile on Steve's face for the rest of the day.

 

 


End file.
